


I Wouldn't Mind

by rosecoloredvoice (Cookidomo)



Series: A World Full Of Drarry [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Letters, M/M, One Shot, Past Tense, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookidomo/pseuds/rosecoloredvoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaise finds Draco's letters to Harry and sends them (of course). What happens afterward is a result of those letters getting to the correct recipient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wouldn't Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the book "To The Boys I've Loved Before" by Jenny Han. It's a great book and I strongly recommend it!  
> The title was inspired by He Is We's "I Wouldn't Mind" (the song is GREAT, I LOVE IT). Also, I'm sorry. I usually write short stuff so I don't feel as conscious about my writing. If I write something with an actual storyline... *sweats nervously* *feels anxious* *gets worried* Anyways, please enjoy this!

“You did...WHAT?” Draco's voice echoed through the room and he tried again, in a much lower voice. “You did what?”

“I sent out your love letters.” Blaise shrugged.

“Those...Those weren't love letters!” Draco protested, tugging at his hair frustratingly.

“Then what's the problem?” Blaise asked. “No harm done.”

“You don't know what you just did!” Draco's grip on his sleek blond hair tightened, mussing up his hair. “Where did you place them?”

“On that armchair that Potter always sits on.”

“In the _common room_?” Draco gave him an exasperated look, but the look of panic in his eyes gave him away. “Honestly, Blaise. _Anyone_ could take it.” Draco huffed, before he stormed out of the room to find the damned papers.

It was relatively easy to get into the Gryffindor common room, especially since the houses had made amends. Everyone was tired of fighting after the war. Some Gryffindors had even struck up friendships with the Slytherins. Strange was an understatement. Blaise and Longbottom became friends after Blaise admitted that Longbottom “had balls to stand up against the Dark Lord.” That wasn't the worst of it; Pansy and Granger were. Somehow, their friendship worked, as weird as it seemed to him; Granger didn't end up throwing books at Pansy and Pansy didn't attack her with hexes. Instead, they seemed to be _plotting_ or just talking; Draco could never tell with Pansy.

The painting beckoned to him to move along and eventually he did. He was greeted by crackling from the fireplace. The room seemed to be deserted. Now he just needed to grab the envelope and leave before anyone saw him.

He crossed the threshold and meandered in. The room was red, reflective of the house's icon and mascot. It was so unlike the Slytherin common room that he took a minute to marvel at his surroundings. There were books stacked on a shelf and couches that must feel as comfy as they looked.

Draco spotted the armchair in the corner and hurried toward it. It looked ragged and warm but was soft to the touch; he had no doubt that this was Potter's favorite chair. He was right; the envelope was snugly tucked in the folds of the chair and he pulled it out, careful not to disturb the half-opened notebook with scrawly handwriting. The chicken scratch handwriting made him shudder.

Lost in his thoughts, Draco did not hear the creaking of the floorboards or the footsteps of an approaching person.

“...Malfoy?” Draco heard a voice call out his name and cursed under his breath. Things were going downhill fast.

He looked up, saw emerald eyes behind spectacles, and groaned. He was royally _fucked_.

\- - 

Harry had only wanted to find a quiet place to breathe. Hermione and Ron were more than likely snogging by now.

However, instead of the peaceful afternoon he envisioned, he found himself in the common room with Malfoy of all people.

He found him crouched over his favorite chair, the one in the corner. The chair was tucked between the fireplace and shelf so it was very convenient and comfy of a spot.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry glanced at his chair. There was his Charms book and an envelope he didn't recognize, with his name written in neat script.

“Nothing, Potter.” Malfoy snatched the envelope quickly, trying to hide it but it was too late. Harry had already seen it.

“Give me the envelope, Malfoy.”

“No,” Malfoy replied instantly.

“Why not? It was addressed to me.”

“Just...no.”

Harry reached for the envelope, his fingers just grazing it before Malfoy stepped back. Harry tried again and this time Malfoy pushed him away. Soon they were tugging the envelope back and forth.

The contents fell out of the envelope in the midst of their struggle, and Malfoy was quick to bend down and pick up the pieces of paper. “Look what you did, Potter.” He said, hastily sliding the parchments back in the envelope.

“ _Me_? I didn't do anything.” Harry gave him a scathing look. “You started it, Malfoy.”

Then they were struggling again for the envelope. If Harry wasn't so curious about why Malfoy was here, he would have laughed. It must have been quite a sight to see the two of them playing at some kind of tug-a-war.

Apparently Malfoy thought so too. He had jumped away from Harry the moment he heard people enter the room. Neville shot them a questioning glance as other Gryffindors filed into the room.

“Fine, Potter.” Malfoy sneered at him but there was something different. There was an unmistakable panicked look in his eyes as he scurried out of the room. Harry was left blinking in confusion long after everyone had gone, envelope in his hands.

Harry only pulled the envelope from its hiding place when everyone else was snoring peacefully. The front of the envelope only had his name: Harry Potter.

He opened it and was greeted by several pieces of paper. They looked like the love letters he received. Harry had a feeling that it was more than that if Malfoy was willing to try and intervene with it.

_If you had shaken my hand when we were eleven_

_Would we have been friends?_

_Would we have been anything more?_

_Would things have turned out differently?_

_No point in thinking about things that don't matter._

_But I do anyway._

Harry squinted at the text. If the letter was in the common room, the sender must be at Hogwarts and...his eyes widened. Malfoy. Malfoy was the one who stuck his hand out for a handshake. Of course. That would explain why Malfoy...didn't want him to read the letter.

Harry shook his head and continued reading.

_The Yule Ball_

_I was surprised when you showed up_

_I supposed you would be in your regular...clothes_

_I was expecting you to break a rule but you showed up_

_Green robes and all_

_It really brought out your eyes_

_I saw a girl adjusting your shirt_

_You really didn't know how to dance_

_You kept stepping on the poor girl's feet_

_It was funny, she kept glaring at you_

_If it was me though_

_I wouldn't have minded_

From what he remembered on that day, Malfoy was wearing a robe that would have made him look absolutely stunning (if he wasn't such a prat). Then again, he had always looked good. Fancy clothes looked stiff and much too formal on Harry. On Malfoy, however, the attire seemed flawless and casual, like it was normal to look _that_ nice. Harry's eyes scanned the next piece of paper.

_I never hated you_

_Not when you refused my handshake_

_Not when you hexed me_

_Not when you saved my life_

_Not even when Father seemed to care_

_More about you than me_

_I hated that_

_But I've never hated you_

  
That information was harder to absorb. Harry rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows, and continued reading. There were still quite a few left to read.

_It was always that Weasley girl_

_Crimson red and a smile so unlike mine_

_It must have been what you wanted_

_But never mentioned_

_I, however, made such a big deal_

_About getting what I wanted_

_But when it came down to it_

_I never did get what I wanted_

_Not Father’s acknowledgment_

_Not your smiles_

_What I did get were_

_Your constant glares_

_Insults thrown in retaliation_

_and stings and hexes_

_But never you_

_I could never have you_

Harry's eyes widened. As oblivious as he was, at that point even he could tell that Malfoy's feelings were akin to romantic. He sank back onto his bed, not knowing what to do with that information.

So, as he usually did in a crisis, he asked Hermione and Ron (the next day of course). He didn't necessarily _want_ to but they were his _friends._ Maybe they would know.

“Hermione, Ron...” Harry began. They looked up; Hermione from her book and Ron from his doodles.

“What?”

“Yes, Harry?” Hermione set her quill down. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“No...It's nothing much.” Harry looked at the piles of books she had around her. “I was just wondering...”

“Mate, just get to the point.” Ron rolled his eyes and Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

“Well...Hypothetically, if your so-called enemy wrote a love letter to you, how would you react?”

“What?” Hermione paled in color, her full attention now on Harry.

Ron's eyes widened. “There's no way that would happen.”

“Harry,” Hermione's voice was dangerously low. “Did something happen?”

“No...I...” Harry sighed. There was no way to get around it without telling them. They knew something was up.

“Well...” Harry handed the envelope to Hermione, praying that Malfoy wouldn't kill him if he ever found out about this. Ron watched in interest, pulling his chair closer to Hermione's so he could look over her shoulder.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of shuffling papers.

Harry waited patiently for them to finish and when they did, their reactions were unexpected. Hermione sighed. “That explains everything.” Ron nodded meekly, looking uncharacteristically calm.

“What do you mean?”

“Mate, you've been obsessed with him for a while. I always saw you _staring_ at him from across the room.”

“He could have been up to something!”

“Not after the war he wasn't.” Ron replied, the eerily calm look still on his face.

“You were looking at him so often that I'd be surprised if no one noticed.” Hermione chimed in.

“The point is, Harry, you need to figure out what you feel about Malfoy. Regardless of his bad history and upbringing.”

“Why are you both so calm about this?”

“Because,” Hermione said quietly. “He already apologized.”

“What? _That_ was an apology?”

“Yes, _Harry._ ” Hermione rolled her eyes. “He sent a gift and acknowledged us, as hard as it might have been for his pride.” She squeezed Ron's hand instinctively.

Ron nodded. “He was a real prat back then but now...not as much.”

“He's trying. I think that bit is obvious.” Hermione spoke slowly, as if she was contemplating her words as she spoke them. “You should reevaluate your feelings toward Malfoy. Maybe you'll find that you hold something rather than hatred for him. _Think_ about it, Harry.”

Harry did. He thought about it when he was laying on his bed, when he was showering, and even when he was in class. It occupied most of his thoughts, to the point where he couldn't even concentrate on Quidditch (as much as he loved it).

“Are you okay?” Someone yelled. Harry startled, realizing that someone was speaking to him. “Practice's over. You really looked out of it today.”

Harry quickly dismounted his broom, letting his feet meet the ground.

“Yeah...I'm fine.” Harry answered. “I'm just tired.”

“Okay, but let me know if anything's wrong.” Angelina said, clapping him on the shoulder as she headed to the locker room.

Harry was starting to believe that thinking didn't _help_. He was still as confused as ever. He didn't understand anything.

Well, not until he went on his midnight walk. Frustrated from all the thinking he did over the past few days, Harry had scurried out of the dormitory with his invisibility cloak. He managed to sneak out into the field without Filch noticing him so he considered it a success. Harry thanked the Marauders Map silently.

He laid down on the grass, enjoying the cool feeling the dewy grass provided him. It was pretty out here at night. The moon was visible and the stars seemed to twinkle down at him. Harry scrutinized the field and that's when he saw a figure. Or a head. Only hair was visible from where he was lying.

Pale blond hair nestled upon the grass. It _had_ to be Malfoy's hair. It had to be. No one else had hair like his, well, besides his parents. It occurred to him right then just how often Draco Malfoy occupied his thoughts and when he saw the relaxed half-smile on his face, he knew he had his answer.

~ ~

It was 2 weeks before Harry finally decided to bring up the letter. Draco looked perfectly fine with forgetting that the letter even existed; he acted as he usually did. However, Harry didn't want to let it go. Not when it could mean _something_ for the both of them.

“Malfoy, can we talk?”

“No.”

“Malfoy, we have to talk.” Harry said, pulling the letters out of his pocket. “About _this_.”

“I don't want to.” Draco said, turning away.

“Malfoy-” Harry grabbed his arm. “What does it _mean_?” He was fairly sure he knew but he had to ask anyway.

Those words seemed to get a rise out of him, though not the reaction Harry was expecting.

“Potter, why can't you get it through your head that I fucking _love_ you?” Draco snarled, digging his fingers in the palm of his hands. “Is your head too thick to process that?” He knew people were watching but it didn't matter. He didn't care, he didn't care, he didn't care.

But he cared when he saw Harry's lips curve into a smile. “That's what I wanted to hear.” Harry said and before Draco could analyze his words, they were _kissing_. He was too surprised to react at first but soon he found himself responding eagerly, leaning into his touch as if he were the only thing keeping him upright. He probably was, with the way Draco's legs felt: wobbly and sloppy, like jelly.

Draco couldn't believe it. He kissed Harry. Actually, _Harry_ kissed him. He had thought about it before but never imagined that kissing him would be that _good_. It was way better than his imagination, with the feeling of skin against skin, fabric rubbing against fabric.

But maybe it really was a dream, just something that only _felt_ real to him. “Potter.” He breathed, finally pulling away and catching his breath. He was breathing heavily.

“ _Draco_.” Harry uttered. “That was bloody brilliant.”

Draco was momentarily taken back by the use of his first name. “Potter,” He finally managed to hiss. “What are you playing at?”

“I'm not playing at anything.” Harry said. “And call me Harry.”

“Potter.” Draco's knuckles were turning white now. “Stop messing with me. Wasn't finding out that I was wrapped around your finger enough for you? Does it do good for your ego, knowing that I, a Malfoy, craved your attention...all these years?”

“No,” Harry whispered hoarsely. “I'm not messing with you. I-I've always been oddly fixated on you, especially in sixth year.” His voice cracked but he had an intense look in his eyes that kept Draco rooted to the spot. Harry gave him a soft peck to the lips.

Harry took a deep breath. “It took me a while to realize but I love you. I don't know when it happened but I've always had.” That was when Draco finally made his move, mashing their lips together. It was a sloppy kiss but Draco didn't mind. They were together and all was fine.

**Epilogue:**

“Don't.” Draco muttered as soon as they were out of the Great Hall. “Just forget all of this happened.”

“Why?”

“This isn't going to work. We're going to argue and fight all the time.” Draco smiled humorlessly. “It's always been this way.”

“But what if I want to try anyway?” Harry whispered.

“You're mad.”

“I know.” He said. “But I wouldn't mind if it was you. We've always been good at pissing each other off.” And as he pulled Draco into an embrace, Draco couldn't help but agree.

~ ~

Harry and Draco worked their way up the stairs to a more secluded area. They were hoping to encounter the Room of Requirement; no one would bother them there. Their hands were entwined and they both sported a smile so large that they didn't notice a parchment falling from Harry's pocket. It fluttered down the stairs.

It would later be read by a random student. The parchment said, in beautiful scripted letters:

_You're just a boy_

_A boy with the world on his shoulders_

_With your_

_Jagged scar and unkempt hair_

_How could you ever carry the burden?_

_But you did._

_I don't know how you did it._

_You just did._

_I had my doubts but you,_

_You were always a miracle maker_

_Maybe you're the miracle_

_Maybe you were what we needed_

_Broken glasses and all_

_Eyes so green_

_I would drown in them if you'd let me._

The handwriting belonged to Draco Malfoy without a doubt. The girl smiled.

~ ~ ~

The next day, word had gotten around that Draco Malfoy wrote cheesy love poems to Harry Potter. It didn't help that Harry busted in a fit of laughter every time someone asked him about it or that he smirked at Draco every time there were whispers. Draco would jab him in the ribs (gently) even though he didn't mind that much. Harry would groan and then they would both be laughing.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcome! I'd appreciate it a lot. <3  
> Thanks for reading.  
> Also, I'm really grateful to my friends (I feel really supported and loved). <3


End file.
